


Coming Home

by iwannalovebucky



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Gen, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Protective Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwannalovebucky/pseuds/iwannalovebucky
Summary: Natasha’s missions are not really compatible with family. Your eldest daughter realizes that soon enough, shutting Natasha out more than she does already herself.





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> The cursive dialogue is in Russian.

Natasha set down her dirty and bloody boots on the piles right behind your front door, in front of the little bench she was seated on, your shoes and your girls’ shoes stored underneath it alongside a pair of her own shoes. She hadn’t seen the bench in a few weeks and god did she forget how much she had missed it. A bench! A stupid fucking bench your friends had insisted on buying because they had one and said it was the best thing ever. And maybe they were right. It was a part of her home now, a part of her life. Natasha would probably never forget the sight of your shoes next to hers next to smaller shoes next to the tiny shoes of your younger daughter.

 Yet, in the dark of the hallway, only the shine of the street lights coming through the glass of your front door there wasn’t really much to see. All three of her girls seemed to be asleep, no sounds making their way from any of the bedrooms to Natasha’s sitting form. Sometimes silence was exactly what she needed but there was nothing that compared to the silence of home. She had heard different silences in this house throughout time.

She had heard the silence after a fight between the two of you. She had heard the silence when the kids were not at home. She had heard the silence when your first daughter was sleeping. The worst silence was when you hid in your closet after someone had broken in. The best was this right now. Everyone safe and sound in their beds, peacefully sleeping. Only her sigh interrupted the peacefulness of the silence as she stood up and made her way to the stairs, pushing her boots underneath the bench, promising herself she would clean them up tomorrow so you wouldn’t get angry at her for bringing in all the dirt and blood.

After she had finally dragged herself up the stairs she stopped by the barely open door to the room of your youngest daughter. She was only four, a small bean. Nat’s little one. She had missed this stage with your older daughter, she was basically a teenager now. Just the wrong time to try and bond with her.

 The night light beside her bed was on, letting a dim orange light fall onto her peaceful face as he laid there, relaxed and not moving except for her chest rising and falling. She stood there for a while and just.. watched her breathe. She did that with all three of you. It was something she had picked up early in your relationship, before you had even talked about adopting children. But seeing you safe and sound, asleep and alive was the most calming, reassuring thing for Natasha. Especially after a mission, after killing people and seeing people get killed it was calming to know you didn’t have to go through the same.

She opened the door to your older daughter’s room and watched her too. She rarely ever did that when she was younger. Nat was always away on missions, missing out so much. Basically her whole childhood flew by without Natasha really knowing anything but what you told her. Never had she been to a school play or a parent’s evening, never had Natasha asked her what her favorite TV show was – there were so many things she hadn’t done. But you always did that, so it was okay. Right? Your daughter had someone to look up to, someone who took care of her, she was fine. And you were amazing. You handled everything that was thrown your way, somehow. But you weren’t always happy about it, starting fights with Natasha over her going on too many missions. You were the reason she spent more time at home these days. You weren’t scared to show you cared about her, your children and yourself. You were simply great. It dawned on Natasha anew when she saw you laying in bed, just like her other two girls.

-

The day after she came back from one of her now rare missions was a Sunday. All four of you had no school, no work, no kindergarten. Nat had gotten out of bed before you did, cuddling you the whole night and tucking you in after she got up to ease your whining.

“Stay in bed,” you mumbled into your pillow, already half asleep again. She just kissed your forehead and pulled the sheets a little higher, letting you snuggle deeper into them. Nat smiled to herself. Domestic life was definitely something she had missed out on and she couldn’t wait catching up on that.

She tip toed down the hall to the staircase, briefly stopping at the still open door of the small bud just before she went downstairs to clean her boots from the previous night, making sure to clean the floor as well so you wouldn’t have to. The blood and mud was dry by then. Of course she could have just cleaned them yesterday after arriving but sometimes she was just too lazy to do that. If there was any place she could have less self-discipline, it had to be her home.

She was just scrubbing off the last bits of mud as she heard little feet tapping on the floor behind her.

_“Mama!”_

_“Hey my little one,”_ she almost whispered, an indicator for the little girl to be quieter as well as not to wake you and her sister up. She held her arms up, silently begging Natasha to pick her up. _“Why are you awake already?”_ She pressed a soft kiss into her even softer hair that smelled like outside air and baby shampoo. _“Did I wake you up?”_ She refused to take her nose and face out of her hair while asking.

 _“No, I was just not sleepy anymore,”_ her little daughter replied, playing with her Mama’s hair.

 _“Alright, but now get something on your feet. You know that barefoot you’ll get sick.”_ Nat remembered your lectures to her as well as your daughter very clearly, always trying to make sure she was warm enough, on her feet, her hands, her head.. you liked your children safe just as much as your wife did, if not better. After all, you were the one making sure they actually were most of the time.

Carrying your child upstairs Nat let her continue her attacks on her hair that was messy from lying in bed anyway. The little girl happily let her feet tangle over the edge of her own bed Natasha had set her on as she rummaged through her drawers, looking for warm, fuzzy socks. She let her _little one_ choose between the blue and yellow ones (yellow) and took her to the kitchen where she sat her on the counter while she prepared some breakfast. Soon enough both of them were munching on a sandwich and sharing a comfortable silence.

It didn’t take long for you to show up as well pecking Nat’s cheek as she was still eating her sandwich, earning a smile from her and a look in the other direction from your daughter.

_“Stop kissing in front of me!”_

You and your wife only shared a smug grin as you turned on the coffee machine and made a sandwich for yourself as well as your older daughter that had to yet wake up. It took some time, it almost seemed as if she was avoiding the three of you. Two hours after you had gotten up, way past after her usual wake-up-time she shuffled into the kitchen, barely acknowledging your presence and started to eat while keeping her eyes on the floor.

 _“You could say good morning,”_ Natasha told her in an already uppity tone.

“Did,” was the only response your daughter mumbled out between bites.

 _“And you could speak Russian with your Russian mother.”_ Of course they would instantly start a fight. They always did. You had tried to mediate between them many times but both of them were just way too hot headed. They resembled each other in more ways than they seemed to realize.

This time it didn’t end in a fight, your daughter simply decided she was too young or tired or whatever for this shit, grabbed her sandwich and left the kitchen. You weren’t quite sure if you were supposed to be happy about that or not. On one hand there was no fight, on the other it was only delayed. Nat was angry and she would not hold it in forever. Yet when she turned around to look at you after setting the _little one_ down and letting her dart into the living room the look she gave you suggested otherwise.

“Why doesn’t she miss me?” That you could answer. What you couldn’t was why Natasha always had to mask hurt with anger and hurt the people around her in return.

“You were never around when she grew up. There is nothing she got used to she could miss. Why would she miss something that was never there?” It came out harsher than intended but it was true. Years and years had passed in which she had missed her _Mama_ but she was never there, no matter how much she had asked her to stay. She couldn’t stay for her first child but now she could for her _little one._ Of course she was hurt and angry. She had every right to be but no matter how many times you had tried to explain to your wife what your daughter couldn’t, she wouldn’t understand. Sometimes you wondered if she even tried.

There was a lot of jealousy in your home. The older daughter was jealous of the younger one because she got more attention from _Mama_. The younger one was jealous of the older one because she could have the sleepovers she was only allowed to have when she turned five. Natasha was jealous of you because you got along better with the older one. You were jealous of Natasha because she never had to tidy up the mess she caused in your older daughter’s heart. As you had to now.

“I’m trying, I really am! But I feel like whenever I see her I can’t help but be mad at her!”

“It’s okay. I get you,” you said, softly rubbing her back in response as you sat on the bed next to her.

“It’s just.. why couldn’t she be here for me? Why always for her? Why does she love her more than me?” The hurt, guilt and tears were evident in her voice.

“It’s not because she didn’t want to –“

“It is! She could have like she can now. She just doesn’t love me.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper by the end of her sentence but still loud enough for Natasha to hear just a few feet away from the barely open door of her room. She was just about to make her way to the end of the hallway to your shared bedroom but the hushed conversation she heard made her and her heart stop.

She _really_ had not realized what damage she had been causing all along. You had been right all along, of course you were. No one knew your daughter better than you did since you were the one she had spent most of her life with. Why had she not taken her feelings into consideration? Was she just putting it in the back of her mind all along to avoid a confrontation? She had always been good at that. Physical confrontations had been fine but emotional? That was something she had never been used to. Now she had to do something about it.

Slowly pushing the door open she shyly looked over at you as you rubbed your daughters back while her face was buried in her hands. Even slower she walked over to you and took a seat on the other side of your daughter, replacing your hand with hers as you got up and left the two of them alone to finally talk about what they had been dreading to discuss.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I hope you enjoyed it and feedback is always appreciated!


End file.
